Pageantry

 

"....and the hot force of the stars were impelled 

   to come into being." (Parmenides, from Simplicius, Commentary on On the Heavens)

Reborn

 

Mother's ascent bears more life within.

The tranquil sound of her word 

fills my inner ear, 

mind's eye sees her smile

and the brilliant blue 

of her bright eyes.

She's revived in the bosom

of my spirit forever.

Buss

Lips like knives,

Rose cheeks hives...

Hillocks of honey

sweetly prick me.

October

When vivid hues pale

to twilight and cold

colors fade for a spell,

softness lustfully sheds gold

as leaves tumble stiff and frail.  

Fishhook Moon

dh

 

Heaven's Smithy

 

"Floor of copper, floor of gold....Beyond the custom-house door, ajar, the street at sunset seemed aflame."

Bright Showers

Puddle steps mar

reflection.

Waves distort aspects

as moist air translates

her hair's scent

to redolent Dianthus.

Skyline's penumbra stretches

'cross obsidian streets

as we dissolve lento

in downpours of light.

 

Bright Ruby Dusk

 

"...distills the luminous secret"

The Grid

The petite and ubiquitous 

bowling greens of suburbia

beyond freeways

Where the love made is 

ephemeral and frayed

as travel toothbrushes. 

Overcast

Skinflint sky above,

clouds hold rain

like bands of misers.

They banish Sun 

and dull day's shine 

to the leaden mean. 

Été

"Day at last dawns; and like the raised curtains of a tabernacle, golden clouds furling into large scrolls uncover the sky." Flaubert, The Temptation of St. Anthony.

 

Vanity Set Moon

 

"Je t'adore à l'égal de la voûte nocturne..."

Plains

Pendent wan leaves

curl agin tapering gales

over stubbled sward.

Bairns behind panes

pine for handsome gold

of Summer's lust.

Junessence

...while the jolly sun shone

 

April's Light Blooms

 

I resolved to rise and take a turn in the garden.

Sheets

Stars fall in warm eyes.

Zones of temperate dilation

burn cares away in damp groves.

Love's breath, like sunbeams,

spreads golden vistas. 

Nocturne

The door opens to stars above.

A goodnight kiss stabs 

my jaw like toothache.

Eve's breath dishevels hair.

Pistol in hand...

A bullet shatters her window.

She sleeps. 

Impossible a body so serene's

not dead.

  

Still Life Shade

 

          

"Perception, in its pure state, is, then, in very truth, a part of things."

Cercamoan

When the sweet air turns bitter

dogs bark in Occitan

and cats purr in Plattdeutsch.

Birds sing sotto voce.

My lungs, like plucked lyres,

rustle like threads thru dead leaves.

Mother has a hole in her abdomen

the size of a pugilist's fist with

the face of Jupiter's hurricane.

When the sweet air turns bitter

I sing about dogs and cats

with lost tongues as the hurricane's

bloodshot eye burns dead leaves.

Dose Oubli

Roused automata,

host on dresser top,

daily Matin's hushed Mass

hums discreetly from

Arisarum vulgare

Numbing Liturgy,

my tiny hand unsure

as ears brim with

Angels' chorus

I approach the Auto da fé,

a petit mort that grows

with every step away

from host's home.

Patachon

 

Wave Crests Above

"au jour d'aujourd'hui"

 

Angel , Duchess of the Sidewalks

 

"..for we are all children of one breast, teasing each other, squabbling, but still unable to separate."

Translation

The turn from text to context opens a path away from being. Discount deeds, being will always already have been breath's deed.

An account anterior to thought's alterity. Exegetical horizons, distant clearings, illumine dusk in bruised blue. Light grows faint as soft words spoken open locked doors. All is at hand, naked as starless night. Print's black impression blankets heaths. Breath folds and unfolds the terms. Form tucks tongues in reverie. Rest relinquishes any wish to signify. 

Dream anoints spirit. The distance from everything is equal. It is an alchemy where pale leaves become gold coins as they touch ground. 

   

Pristine Drifts Narrow Slits to Nothing

Pale banks fillet

pristine drifts,

carved lacunae

of light's scalpel.

Powdered faces,

ashen drawn Sun, 

narrow eye slits 

to nothing.

Son Arises

 

"Aquesta viva fuente, que deseo/ En este pan de vida yo la veo.."

Viola

 

"...les jeunes grâces des arcs jaillir en des inclinaisons féminines de tiges"

Protest

Our protest arranges an assignation with death.

In open space, the agora, we can't catch our breath.

So much to and fro, loss and gain, our craft heaves

On the cusp of sinking, swallowed by soaked leaves.

Eyes shine forged beams above high heather.

Hand in hand, like burrs fixed, we're one feather

Which buoys up to embrace bright Suns

And swiftly pass what pulse outruns.    

Zone

Stars cling to her eyes.

Sun's warmth, like love's breath,

upon my neck...

So many zones apart, 

temporal dilation 

makes beds of eyes

and skin.

Burn cares away 

in thick groves where

Parliaments take flight. 

The day flags.

Art sits bitter 

in dusk's lap.

Skyline

She made herself a bed within my eyes.

Liar's Gospel

I choose to lie because

I wish to void

the imperfection of being.

Flawless vistas compel 

inexorable subterfuge.

It is a perpetual battle

against becoming vestigial.

Every lie a jewel,

multifaceted,  

capturing riches. 

Jinn

 

Aswim

In tones of night and honey

I'm sap flowing over clocks' hands

which tempers time sweet and sticky.

With firm strokes I swim 

beauty's sea cresting... 

Her eyes glint

deep below 

like shark's teeth

mocks moonglow.

France on the South Side

Boo!

 

Luna Treetops

 

viso di neve colorato in grana

Morphic Slumber

...bound in the cestus of beauty, streaming out blithely into the beauty embracing repose...demonically absorbing everything, gathering all into its Saturnian poise...

 

Infatuation

Infatuation comes

Infatuation goes

and melts away

like spring snow

Kantian Imp

If Kant has a Nocturnal Emission 

must he inform the Constable?

An imperative commission,

because antinomies annul autonomy.

Faust's dog was no Poodle

But a black Dachshund 

Immanuel walks punctually

across the King's mount daily

as motley Owls soar aloft.

Air

Like pollen in the air

she tickles my nose hair

and wherever I may lay

she lays.

Heaven's Majesty

The constellate crown 

blooms brilliant to sight

a crystalline bow

of radiant smile

above Hunter's shield.

Her stellar tiara

waxes finely swift 

in starstruck eyes.

 

Winter's Cusp

Plumes of silver flit

with crisp gusts 'cross

blue scrolls above

Light hews, gold with grey,

as bonny birds trill 

sullen on stark limbs.

Mocking Muses

When words play cruel coquettes

and you're drawn to stubs

like puddle soaked cigarettes

the glacial hush snubs.     

Where is the tinder

for sonorous bonfires?

Pegasus' canter

sears what inspires.

It stills the inner ear

with apathy's drone

and the dumbshow vents clear

the muted chill of bone.

 

Sweet Groove

 

Sol's Gold Shafts Rise to Stroke Luna's Ascent

 

Text

"...the section you are reading interprets the text of your face."

Her Devastatingly Delicious Wake

She struts clam'rous ovations from a sumptuously clappin' derrière. 

With every stride her bounteous bosom bounces, straining her brassiere.   

The cocks crow and hens cry foul, windows tremble as the Skyline bows.

Waves of heat flood her wake, horned devils aflame to strip the blouse.

They burn double: from God's decree and her flesh's heavenly abundance.

Their pricks sing as spirits burn, such agony never gleans a glance

from those bright eyes and brighter smile as the deafening parade passes.

Women decry, hissing "She's too much!", and Men athirst taste bitter ashes.  

     

Highball Low

She has it all, glass in hand,

and speaks dry ampersand.

Words coarse as her skin

gilt a fulsome grin.

Beyond considering,

she abhors feeling.

The highball goes low

and all her friends know

if she scorns to stop 

she, not glass, will drop.

  

Squared Circles

Men stride in circles inscribing

a ring of wan yellow grass,

discarded halo of the 

Fallen Angel.

Concrete wall encloses them

and forms a square which binds

the cycle of their blighted footfall.

Serenading Angel

 

All Hallows'

Halloween is nothing to celebrate.

It should not be fun.

On my tenth Hallows' 

my Appendix nearly burst 

as a ghoulish German dwarf 

cruelly tried to make me laugh 

with his Swabian accent

while I writhed in pain.

It's no excuse to stuff your faces with sweets

(Which mother blamed for my malady).

When evil is let loose before Saints return, 

streets and sidewalks shall be Rivers of Blood.

Autumn Spell

Blanched yellow leaves become 

bright gold coins in Sun's smithy

The cool breeze carries your fragrance

like a benediction

Our hands entwined know touch 

shares more mystery than breath

An Old Thief's Testament

Chased chimeras for years

and life, the ultimate spoil,

will be pinched from me

by the subtlest hand.

Only death keeps score,

toe tags add up.

Jesus is the greatest thief of all.

He nicked eternal life from death

and, like a thief in this night,

returns to take mine. 

 

Méta II

Crisp air of your essence, 

clarity of its bouquet,

overwhelms all sense.

You mock my ardor,

but I will not surrender.

God was hardest upon

the most ardent.

I love the chase as much as capture.

I know both sides of rapture.

In your arms cast down or 

taken up is equal pleasure. 

Copenhagen

Lurid house-fronts line the banks

as tourist boats glide lifelessly by...

Songs never heard as shopkeepers 

toll waterways and patent every hue.

Smiles shine brighter than 

freshly minted coins.

Every boy and girl a budding 

Bounderby or Hetty Green.

This cashbox Venice that banished  

Santa Claus centuries ago... 

Where Soarin' Graveyards died hated 

and Jens cursed with his last breath.

The Known Unknown Contagion

My breath is a menace I'm told,

whether indoors midst vents

or outside under towers.

There is no refuge, no Prince Galahalt

to slay invisible, variating, Dragons.

Overburdened Angels of Mercy

stoically vent about those

they've lost patience with and euthanize.

I look out between blinds and see

well spaced lines of bodies in masks

under Sun's kind light who look

like variants of the Stoic Angels 

knowing the tales and tailism are endless,

a terror induced enclosure without escape.

Dark Pools

Everything is relative.

Incestuous Ontology

and Contagious Pedagogy

cultivate Propriety.

Ancestry, a Fortress perched 

atop cordillera of Blackrock,  

is hedged by restive waters. 

                                               Eugenics and Securities

                                  produce a Union more Perfectly Infected.

Heavenly Fresco

 

Out of Breath a New Star Arises

Out of breath a new Star arises.

Always she waxes, never wanes.

Strip-mined spirit below 

yields love's light above.

Hollow shafts echo

her song forever  

filling chasms:

"If you're ever 

 in a jam 

 here I am."

Open Book

 

The movement of her eyes, as if reading an open book.

Intimate Gloss

Christine is a warm, comely miss I just met. 

Two days past nineteen, captivating silhouette... 

Behind a curtain I caught her gown's spill 

Over lithe nape down past cloven hill.

Bliss and Burn

So sunny and the bright blue above flooded everything in gold.

She was graduating and wanted to come over 

for a swim and sunbathe to celebrate.

Her white bikini soaked up sunlight and my eyes as she dove in.

Her tan skin glowed like shaded pearl.

While sunning she asked me to apply

lotion to her legs and back when she turned over.

My hands explored her firm softness and rose

slowly up her legs to thighs and ascending rise

to two perfect hemispheres covered by chaste cloth. 

How much I wished to tuck in that cloth and explore

those glorious hemispheres with my hands,

my head aswim in sweet sap but...  

I burned pleasurably but was never burnt. 

 

Celestial Skin

The sky of your radiant skin

is the beginning of sense...

Constellation of moles

from above lip to neck

to shoulder to breast

settling at the small

of your back 

my horoscope.

The Lookout

A stoic Dutch captain hung himself at the helm.

The Lookout was reading an account of the assassination

of Louis, Duc D'Orléans by John the Fearless to repel

stifling heat as the river's course took them. 

His soaked brow's menace aroused a targeted smack.

A mosquito's quelled and The Lookout's sucked blood

mingles with sweat dyeing his forehead blanched red.

He thought of the Duc D'Orléans' severed hand. 

This branch cadet kindled flame, 

nearly torching his elder's frame.

 

Méta

On a Divan vast as outer space

Lilies bow to the Persian Princess.

Sun's sweet gold strokes her face.

Rain shower's crystal 

ornaments the 

wake of her footfall.

St. Candida of Garona

 

The Plain

Smell of natural gas tickles the nose...

on manured fields Sunset smelts gold.

Wendy's jet hair licks heaven's navy blue.

Her breath an occult bouquet 

from carmine lips I burn to taste.

Foreign sensations flood the plain

as songbirds' notes waft mundane. 

Winsome

 

Hamas-19

Sound of Amphitheater effect rain under awnings

moments before missiles strike the site of contagion.

Hamas-19 a virus plaguing every building

and home destroyed in the open air detention camp 

blockaded by the potential victims of its pathogen.

Crop Life

 

To the Birds

The birds hate our poetry,

their songs never

innocent of enmity. 

At war, in dauntless formation, 

they line up on threads of heaven. 

 

Puff yourselves up 

feather-headed fops! 

Our verse you'll never drub.

"Virgin sheets are for droppings!"

   Their battle cry most mocking.

 

The Grind

 

"We've truly touched on something nouveau." 

"Don't Worry Mr. Gates, We'll Never Distribute Vaccines Freely to Other Nations Because There's Money to Be Made."

 

Gentleman at the end next to Bill Gates is the Medical Sciences Chief of The Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation and also was the executor of Epstein's Estate. Guy on the opposite side of Epstein from Gates is Larry Summers, former Treasury Secretary of the US during Clinton administration. 

Pink Moon

 

Tapers

The embroiderers of the golden tapestry

never let down their hair as rope

to take up seekers.

They enclose with estranged cloth 

that wraps us and shines

in each ray of the Sun's

allotted fire.

The cold kiss of a tear stings flushed cheeks.

Bare bone shakes when touched by their gold.

Words turn against flesh and feast.

Moonshine

The Moon is a star's tomb

collapsed to pocked stone.

Boldly it nicks light from the Sun

in a varied, betimes null, fashion.

Drawn by Earth to shade eves and move tides...

Thief to Sun,

Slave to Earth,

a curséd berth

stars shun.

Crimson Snide

 

Stormy Day Ferris

In a faded floral dress

and effusive smile

apostrophized by 

lively blue eyes,

hopeless to imagine

she ever slept.

At the playground

she swung highest 

and told everyone 

she's kicking the Sun.

   

Otium Dognitate

 

Cloud Swathed Sun

 

Angel's Regard

 

When Air Becomes Terror

When air becomes terror birds sing dirges.

The Sun's rays mock masked children 

scratching window panes.

Dust gathers on desks too close for hygienic concern,

playgrounds still as graveyards.

When air becomes terror billionaires sing paeans

for pharmaceutical corps and strictly enforced

cleansing of public space while their wealth 

spikes immensely. 

Tech (Statement by Jacques Ellul)

.          

Pictures from the Nature Preserve Park

Otters with heads shaved 

like Slaves of Christ

swam in columns down

canals.

One may have been

the reincarnated

Aquinas.

A Mother and her boys 

on a carousel,

mirrors captured me taking

taking photos.

In a white Volvo I was 

the driver playing music

that "always told a story"

as the boys laughed

in backseats. 

Purple Plush

 

Clarity Hall

So young we're old.

So fun we're bored.

In a bright hallway

on plush pile carpet

my love's feet,

cold as

coroner's kiss,

glide closer.

Her hand strokes

my cheek

like scythes

glean wheat.

Antic Bronze

To the Queen of Carolina Circle

 Head first into the world,

 a girl crowned blonde.

 Precious and blinded by

 pointed blades of light.

 Years erase the blight.

 Bloom of hair and limbs

 ignite with youthful vigor,

 ripening life so tender.

 Time drags and adulthood

 hangs high above her reach, 

 dim as a distant star.

 Alive with dream and caution,

 years fly and ideals blossom.

 She gets to work and builds,

 hope alone won't do,

 a life to fit her best:

 Not without passionately seeking

 a helpmate to make it doubly blest.

 

 

 

Four Mile Road

Our bus cleared the overpass.

Scent of manure fills nostrils 

as gold fields flank the road

far as youthful eyes espy.

                                           Out to Pioneer: a square, sparse structure

                                           of three stories, solid as a Cathedral

                                           without ornament, featuring dully

                                           tiled hallways with water fountains 

                                           made too high for children.

In classrooms a tricolored rag 

hung over a prominent corner 

we pledged ourselves to each morning.

                                            Afterwards, from steel vents     

                                            above baseboards,  (glittering grates radiant as sin)

                                            warm fires of hell

                                            conveyed the quickened breath

                                            of diligent devils to all.

When the heat shut off

everyone, in sacred silence, knew

death's sombre polity was nigh.

Blake

The feral silence of Angels

flooded his form.

Fens were drained like

faces of lost souls

beguiled by the 

Demonic din of Babel.

Sunstitched

 

Sunbrace

Her smile bright as milestones 

on steep sun dressed hillsides.

Sunspot amber eyes' shade

with the grace of dawn's rays.

Clusters of stars flare 

in her heavenly hair

twisting gaily in 

Etesian air.

Lullaby

Arbors of clientele,

physiognomies

cast by articulate

leaves.

 

An owl's coo and flutter the coda

as rustling leaves lull us prey 

to strange aspects.

Lockdown Spleen

 

Barricade streets, confine living souls,

you cannot kill the love inside us.

Throw families out into those streets,

starve the poor,

let the elderly perish without a word

from loved ones...

Be clinically cruel as you wish,

it will not kill the love inside us.

You only kindle bonfires that shall 

make motes of your feckless cruelty.

Wealth of Nations

The Gates are horrid, 

built with the bone and sinew

of indigent test subjects.

Far away on private isles

our wealthy benefactors

are deflowering children

or drinking their blood

to procure eternal youth.

In boardrooms quid pro quo

proudly slaughters millions 

to reap robust return.

Pandemic and shutdowns for subjects,

mandating untested but profitable 

vaccines to mint trillions for gatekeepers.

The Prick Kicks

Cocky Paphian, teeth bared boldly, 

savors tastes of comestible booty.

His tactile leer caresses flesh

on Sun sopped promenades.

He struts erect as a rooster,

relishing each coup de foudre.

Reflection

       

The Eugenicist at Home

At his mahogany desk

constructing a standardized test,

calipers dangle from the wall

like lynched relics.

                                                      An unconscious numerologist,

                                                      he avoids six and embraces seven.

His bookcase to the right

stuffed with titles by

Murray, Attenborough,

and Flynn is dusted

by a servant whose name

he never recalls.

Her dark face 

entails an occult

erasure.

 

Philoctetes

Lit a pyre and burned again

for an abducted princess.

To Troy he sailed 

with Heracles' bow

to snuff twin flames.

Hera sent a serpent

to cross his aims. 

                                        He's bitten.

                                        The wound stinks.

                                        The poison rots

                                        as each hero shrinks

                                        away fleeing his

                                        accursed state.

Until twin wits plot

to purloin his bow...

But good faith prevailed

and provided a cure

for all he ailed.

On the Good Foot

 

Draped Pedestal